Koumori
by Redemption by Fire
Summary: Companion story to Trifecta. After 3000 years, the Thief King wanted only one thing-death. Wasn't that his only freedom left? A new host,might equal a new way of thinking. Ryo Bakura anticipates a rough ride, but some lessons are best learned the hard way
1. Chapter 1

_Hello readers, _

_This story is a companion story that I wrote to my story Trifecta. I suggest reading that story first, or at least going to read the chapters mentioned in this story, if don't want to read the whole story. Otherwise confusion might arise. This story doesn't stand alone very well especially after chapter 1, so think of it as more like, deleted scenes. I didn't want to include these scenes in Trifecta, because they would have disrupted the flow of the original story. But my sister who requested the story I wrote, suggested I make these scenes available to help better understand Ryo Bakura's (and the Thief King's) character, which I tried to give some back story and fill in the holes in his story in Trifecta. So much of Yugioh is from Yugi and Atem's perspective, that I had to invent what I thought was occurring on the other end for Trifecta, and here is a sample of some of those thoughts. _

_Enjoy!_

**Koumori**

If there was one thing that the Spirit that was chained to the Millennium Ring knew, it was that he had never found anyone quite like Ryo Bakura. He had spent thousands of years, taking what he could from various mortals, and leaving them with whatever scraps he didn't need. He was immortal, yes, Zorc had made sure of that. The Evil One claimed he owned the Thief's soul, and death was not an option. The Spirit had tried to off himself many times to free himself from the Ring, but each attempt had usually failed or merely succeeded in killing his host, leaving him in darkness and silence once again. But immortal though he was, he was still dependant on others for survival. And he knew that with the deepest conviction. He had long ago stopped caring about anything, but himself, and he had long since lost any hope of rescuing or redeeming the one thing he cared about.

For thousands of years, he had been forced to continue the search for the other Millennium Items. It was something he had stopped caring about, but felt unnaturally compelled to continue to search for. After all, how do you stop doing the only thing that you have really devoted your life to doing. It would be the ultimate form of death. Death of purpose, of consciousness, of life. You would exist, but would not be worth mentioning. And the mention of himself, by others, was all that remained of the Spirit's life, if you want to call it that.

The Spirit had all but given up, content for the first time in almost 3000 years, no longer existing as a separate, yet compelled individual. Perhaps the talk of the Ammut and the eating of the heart, the ultimate form of death, to no longer exist in all forms, would be ideal.

Yet, just as the Spirit had contented himself with darkness and silence, allowing himself to be slowly eaten away by it, something happened. He was for the first time in decades removed from the stone tablet.

It was by a man, who must have known the power of the Ring, and would only hold it by its string. But his proximity to the the Item at least prodded at the Spirit's mind. What did he want? Couldn't he leave him in peace, the kind that can only come through nothingness? The Spirit knew of the other...power... in the Ring, and was quite content to leave him in the darkness and silence as well.

The Spirit could hear the man talking to the Ring. "You can't keep darkness at bay with darkness. You should know that will not do anything, but condemn you to loss of mind, and loss of heart. It is the way of a coward and a fool, to eliminate the beast inside by eliminating its cage. That will only lead to the beast's freedom."

The Spirit still couldn't see anything, but he could feel the man walking him into the sunlight of the surface world, a world he had stopped trying to experience and control, for decades. And the man's voice sounded familiar to him, though he had trouble placing it. For weeks he sat on a hard wooden surface in the sun, hearing the babble of townsfolk going to and from the market. Why was he sitting here? What was the purpose of this man? How did he know so much about the Ring?

The spirit allowed the Ring to glimmer and catch someone's eye. They approached the stall. The tourist reached for the Ring, and the Spirit could almost feel the lustful pleasure he got from manipulating his newest...landlord. But the man who had brought him here in the hot desert sun, grabbed the Ring back before the tourist could touch it. However, in his haste, he had bumped its surface. In an instant, the Spirit took over, only to his dismay, to find that this man was not a man, but a Khabit. A shadow, of one who had passed that could be seen and interact with the world, but did not have a will to bend, or a body, to control. He was already a blank, slate, following only the commands of the rest of his spirit, which had since, moved into the the great... whatever. He could read the Khabit, but he would gain nothing more then whatever the Khabit could see and hear. His memories were limited, his powers, worse, and his sense of purpose and direction, ancient and steady, not easily bent. And since he possessed another Item, his limited powers, couldn't be manipulated at all.

The Spirit growled like a wounded beast. He at least took the small pleasure of seeing the world once again and hearing its sounds. But it was pale in comparison to what he could have experienced. He could see the young tourist, but was more astounded by the young man standing beside him. He seemed completely unaffected by the power radiating off the Ring.

"Trust me you would be better off without this particular...distraction." The Khabit spoke. "I'm really doing you a favor." The Spirit could not tell however, if the Khabit was speaking to the tourist or the Spirit himself.

The paler young man spoke calmly. "We are just looking for a chess set. My previous one...has gone missing."

His companion, unaware of the danger that he had been rescued from, remarked harshly. "You mean your father broke it, in a fit of rage. Stop being so calm about it."

The pale young man spoke calmly still, but it was clear his companion was testing his patience. "Returning the anger back to him, or complaining about it, will just spread the anger around. And goodness knows, I would rather face the blunt of it now, then the sharpness of new, refreshed anger, repeatedly. Best to let a sleeping beast, lie." Then he blushed slightly, aware of how much he was disclosing in front of a random stranger. "Sorry, to be bothering you." He turned and his friend reluctantly followed him.

The Spirit knew what he wanted. He wanted the pale boy, who looked meek and mild, like a girl, but whose eyes were alight with fire. Tight reined, but passionate. He could break that, and he knew he would enjoy it. Very much.

The Khabit put the Ring back down and he lost the sights and sounds.

This process was repeated week after week. Sometimes a few people looked at the Ring, but the Khabit didn't offer it to anyone. And occasionally the pale boy's voice, could be heard in the crowd, and it excited the Spirit every time. The more he heard it, the more he wanted to control it, to crush it, to destroy it. He could sense a challenge, and he liked a challenge. He wasn't sure why he felt so passionately about this, but perhaps it was because he sensed a kindred spirit. Only this brethren, had yet to be crushed, despite numerous obstacles, as the Spirit had been crushed. Or perhaps he could sense, his strength and he longed to share in that, which he had lost thousands of years ago, that which he had sold away for revenge and bloodlust.

He listened for weeks, and it was weeks, before out of boredom, he attempted to attract the young man's attention again. The ring glistened, but it did not attract the pale man's attention, but rather a gruff angry man. When the Khabit attempted to pull the ring away, the man punched him.

Grabbing the Ring, he ran. With renewed sight, the Spirit surveyed the market around him. The man found himself running towards the young pale skinned man. "You shouldn't take what doesn't belong to you." the young pale man remarked when the gruff man holding the Ring came towards him. Emboldened by the dark powers of the item he was holding, the man took a swing at this obstacle. The young boy, ducked remarkably quickly, like he had great practice at this sort of thing. The man, continued to throw a few punches, without interference from the Spirit. The young boy, ducked every one of them. But then what shocked the Spirit of the Ring, was the that he seemed to be calculating something. He backed himself into a corner and then ducked causing the man's fist to hit a stone wall. He dove down and grabbed the rope holding the Ring from the man as he cringed in pain. The Spirit swore, so close, yet so far. He lost sight again. He could hear the boy walk calmly and return the item to the Khabit. "This belongs to you," he remarked.

The Khabit took the string. "For now."

This process continued a few more weeks. The hot Egyptian summer, turned into the hot Egyptian fall, and the only reason one could tell anything had changed was the sounds of school age children were heard only as they walked to and from school every day. School had been in session for weeks, before the Spirit felt that something was going to change.

A man walked up to the stall where the Ring was sitting and approached the Khabit. "I'm just looking for something for my son," the man commented. The Khabit responded. "This is an Egyptian artifact that was used to play Duel Monsters in ancient times." He gestured to the Ring, coming close to touching it, just to awaken the Spirit.

"Really? I was fairly certain that the game was invented by Maximillion Pegasus." The man replied, sounding polite, but harsh and steely. "Yes, but nothing invented is without inspiration, is it? All artists must borrow from the world around them," the Khabit replied. The man gave a hmm noise, showing he was already loosing interest. "However, I will give this to you, for free."

"Nothing is free." The man replied with a tone that implied that he had learned this lesson the hard way.

"Ah, true, but this was once stolen from me, and a certain young man returned it to me. A great feat indeed. I know your son and I would...entrust...this to no one else, but him. He isn't getting this for free, he earned it." The Khabit solemnly replied.

The man sighed. "That sounds like my son." He accepted the Ring, staring at it intently. He stroked it gently with the touch of someone inspecting its authenticity. The Spirit rejoiced, opening his way into the man's mind. Taking one last look at the Khabit who had controlled his location for weeks, he moved the man away from the stall. Free! The spirit began to probe the man's mind, looking for anything worth stealing. He combed through images of the tombs, of museums, of boring business meetings, of nights with beautiful women, a rotating circle of them. This man was a classic manipulator, a scared boy, who had grown up into a man, without becoming one. Who controlled the world around him, with power, money, words, or force. He could crush this man easy. The Ring would definitely be, of the two of them, the strongest, darkest, most powerful force, and the bully would become the bullied. But something stopped him from doing so. He continued to scan the man's memories. Some of the women were seen more then once, especially this white haired one. She looked almost like, the pale boy from the market. Other then gender differences, they look almost identical. The boy however, had his father's brown eyes, not the white haired woman's green eyes. Then he saw the boy playing cards with a younger sister, playing chess in the parks of another greener country, protecting his sister, from his father's rages, purposefully taking the blows with the least amount of damage.

Soon the boy was standing beside his father at a funeral. So it was just the boy and his father.

Leaving the father in peace, for now, the Ring allowed itself to be packed, descended once again into darkness. For the Spirit knew what awaited it, when the box was reopened. The son, the pale boy. The fun was just beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Koumori**

When the darkness lifted and the box was opened, the Spirit awoke with speed and excitement. He couldn't see the boy, but he could hear him.

"What?" the boy mumbled to himself, briefly touched the Ring when he picked up the card tucked inside the box. It was the opening that the Spirit needed. He probed the boy's mind, reading his memories.

There were games with his sister, making pancakes with his mother, hiding with his sister in a closet as yelling occurred between his parents. There were school days, where the boy calculated what blows to take from bullies, just as he had with his father. Most of them emotional blows from both.

Then there was the car crash, and the ka that came forth from the boy, to protect him, was bright and strong, a god like ka. The spirit felt like it was his birthday, with all the presents he was getting. He could make good use such a powerful guardian. The ka protected the boy, and darkness fell. Then he stood beside his father in a graveyard.

However, the Spirit's joy was short lived. As he was looking through the boy's memories, one of his own resurfaced. The brute force with which the memory came to him, brought him unexpected pain and grief. Seeing the burning buildings of Kul Elna only meant one thing, the Evil one, the darkness had awoken. _**Don't you dare think, that you can get...sidetracked.**_ The voice spoke, dripping in hatred. _**I rescued you for one thing and you are useful to me for only that one thing. I sense we are closer to achieving..our...goal, of obtaining the other Millennium Items, then ever before. I command you to make this goal your number one priority.**_

The voice faded back into the darkness, but the Spirit was still trembling. He knew with all his being, or whatever was left of it, that he couldn't disobey this direct order. But he thought of the boy who calculated what blows to take, and who quietly and calmly accepted what was dealt to him in life,...except when he didn't. Except when he found a loophole. Which was exactly what this boy would be for him, now. He probed past the boy's memories and into his thoughts.

_Hello...things are about to get rough. But I'm sure that you can manage. After all, that is why I chose you. We have a very important thing to accomplish. _

Oddly enough, or maybe not, the pale boy responded to this. "What is this important thing?"

The Spirit paused. There was only only one way out for him. _You are going to help me, to die._

If Ryo Bakura seemed confused by this, it didn't show. "Why, would you want this?"

_You will understand soon enough._

Ryo fingered the game pieces that he had pulled off his shelf. One by one he looked over the trapped souls of his friends, his schoolmates, and anyone who was foolish enough to play him, anyone that interfered. The Spirit of the Puzzle had managed to free the more recent ones, the ones that were in the room with the RPG game, but there were so many more in this back room.

The Spirit was sulking, but secretly glad that his plan hadn't worked. After all if it had, then the Evil One would be running amuk now.

Ryo didn't even wait for him to speak before talking aloud, assuring that the game pieces could hear his thoughts as well. "Did you really think it was going to work? To just rush head on into this sort of RPG game with opponents that you don't know, one who has powers to match your own."

The Spirit didn't respond, but gave a soft growl to show he was listening at least.

Ryo continued outloud. "In order to win, you must think of more then just the prize. You were thinking too big. My father says whoever has all the knowledge, has all the power.

_Your father is a weak bully and an idiot._

Ryo didn't respond to that comment. "Perhaps you don't understand what you seek, and why you seek it, enough to gain it. You don't have all the answers." He spoke calmly, but the Spirit could sense the tension and weariness in his voice.

The Spirit sighed. _Don't share, what you don't wish others to know then. Why would you tell me this?_  
>He thought of the Evil One, who could easily comb his mind and hear all of this if he wished. In fact, he was probably listening right now.<p>

Ryo shrugged. "I personally dislike having that kind of power over people. In a game of this magnitude, one wrong move could be the end for you and everyone around you."

_**How right you are, doll. If you ever try anything like that again, disrupting my plans, you will be the next to die. I will have to erase their memories, perhaps we can then try another surprise attack. But you will keep yours, so you will know why you should fear me.**_

And with one fell swoop, the Ring lit up and the dozen or so dolls that sat on Ryo's shelf, shattered into a million pieces, becoming like dust in the air. There was silence and Ryo and the Spirit stood in shock.

_**That what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger...**_

And with that the Evil One faded back into the Ring. The silence was so thick, that you could cut through it with a knife. Ryo stood with wide eyes at the empty shelves. He rubbed the bandaged wound on his hand, perservatively.

The Spirit stood next to Ryo and watched him carefully. Was his plan over? Had Ryo's spirit been crushed? Or worse, was it stronger, stronger and darker, vengence taking seed in his heart?

Ryo spoke quietly, as though he knew what the Spirit had asked, without hearing the question. "I've been broken for a long time. Sometimes it's the little things that do the most damage."

The room was quiet, and Ryo's body was lying still in his suite on the blimp. His eyes were closed but his mind was restless. Why did it feel like every loss, was a win, but not for him? His ultimate game to destroy the Evil One was well on its way to success, and the Evil One had no idea, which was a great feat by itself. The Spirit and he had come to an agreement at least, not to make any stupid moves without consulting each other first and he had finally come to accept his proposal to win against Zorc, even if it meant losing the little duels. At least for now. However, Ryo was certain that he had gained nothing, through all this; instead losing more then he had started with, which was very little.

In fact, Ryo felt like, with every fake smile, every stupid, naïve remark he made, every lie he told, that his heart skipped a beat, and that his soul was becoming less his own. Maybe this was the Evil One's plan all along? To let him beat himself again the bars of his cage, in fake success, only to crack his head open, or submit and accept defeat permenantly, never leaving the opened cage, because he had lost all strength of spirit to fly away.

_Ryo? _The Spirit prodded his mind, more gently then in previous times. Perhaps he could sense Ryo's battle for his soul. Ryo didn't know, but he appreaciated it. "Hmmm?" He mumbled, just show that he was listening, for he was too tired to do much else.

_What now? We lost, as you planned. I am keeping Marik at bay for now, but he is going to want some sort of next move, and it better sound convincing. He isn't quite...understanding, though the potential is there, I think. _

The Spirit prodded Ryo's mind again, with the images that he and Marik had gained through Tea's eyes, watching the rest of the semi-finals. Ryo pushed them aside. "No more."

The Spirit looked confused. _We are finished? Or are you finished? _

Ryo blinked. Did the Spirit seemed worried? He steeled him, and closed his eyes. He could do this, it might kill him, but he could finish what he started. He had to. To leave it half done, would accomplish nothing, perhaps even make things worse. It almost felt to Ryo as though the Spirit was making progress of his own. If he quit now, all of that would be lost too. Ryo spoke weakly. "No more running. We are going directly to the source."

_I thought by dueling the Pharaoh and his ushabti, that we had done that._

Ryo shook his head and gave a half smile at the Spirit's nickname for Yugi. "The Pharaoh, or Yugi Mutou,while they aren't our allies, neither are our enemy in this fight. With the Pharaoh's memories gone from his mind, we need a higher source of information. I thought perhaps that we could awaken the darkness within the puzzle, to obtain those memories, but all I succeeded in doing was hurting Yugi." There was a long pregnant pause. "When I wept in fake confusion over my lot in life, I could see the darkness eating at him, watching him with its eyes. He would have succumbed, he would have attacked. He would not have stopped the Pharaoh, as he had done with Kaiba."

_I know. That is why I took back over. _The Spirit paused, watching Ryo's face.

_If we destroy the Pharaoh, then the darkness that he has joined with will die with him, and then many people can be...satisfied as well. But maybe Marik is right, if the only way to defeat the Pharaoh might be to destroy Yugi, who is his weakness now, then so be it. Yugi is slowly becoming...tainted... anyway. _

"No!" Ryo nearly screamed at him, with strength and conviction. The Spirit smiled, in a dark, but teasing manner.

Ryo blinked.

_There's the fighting spirit I know so well. It is not so far gone, yet. _

Ryo gave a sigh and then a soft chuckle. "Koumori. You make such a big sound, just so that you can see the smallest truth."

_I'm not sure whether I should feel honored or insulted to be called a bat. _

Ryo made no response, but smiled teasingly back. The Spirit prodded him with the images again. Ryo accepted them and spent many hours while the rest of the blimp was asleep, musing over what they could mean. "Okay, here is what we are going to do." Ryo began explaining his plan to duel Marik's darker half and lose. "When we lose, he will get the Ring, and I will be waiting, the information must be in the Rod, for Kaiba to have seen it, this is our source of information. The rod is where I must go to find the answers." Ryo glittered once again, full of hope and promise and the thrill of a chess game that was coming together.

The Spirit frowned. The darker Marik, the one fueled from vengeance and hatred, was a powerful foe. One who liked to take things from his victims piece by piece to savor the triumph and the pain. If they lost, Ryo would be without the Spirit or the Evil One or...a body. Stuck forever, if his body never came back.

_You realize what happens if this fails. If the Pharaoh doesn't defeat him._

Ryo nodded grimly. "I won't become you." His unspoken faith in the strength of those who shared their fate was strong.

The Spirit nodded, understanding that he couldn't dissuade Ryo, even if he wanted to.

_Not if Yugi is __even __half the man you are._

_"_Now that sounded like a compliment, to me...and Yugi." Ryo gave a broad, but closed mouthed smile.

The Spirit, Koumori, made no response. But Ryo, knew that no comment meant no disagreement.

They were so close, but now it seemed like all of their work was for nothing. Ryo had somehow managed to get the Evil One to think that an Egyptian RPG board to gain the Pharaoh's memories was his own idea. And then Ryo had spent all summer making this elaborate RPG board, while the Pharaoh and the rest of his posse, spent their summer running around in America, doing who knows what. Ryo had spent the summer also pretending to be weak and therefore depressed by being forced to do the task at hand. But the acting was done so well, that even the Spirit had trouble telling the difference between Ryo's act and his true feelings. Maybe they were one and the same. The more that the Spirit shared about his past, (purely to help create an accurate game, or course), the closer they seemed to be. But with knowledge, sometimes comes understanding. And with understanding, then there can be grief.

The Memory World board was drawing up some unwanted feelings on the Spirit's part. Feelings the Spirit thought he left behind, when he had left behind his body and sold his soul. Mostly feelings of panic and fear, both things that the Spirit hated But he hated most, the remorse. And so of course, of all Ryo's ideas, the Spirit hated this one the most. Even just looking at the board, as it developed, would cause unwanted pain and grief to surface.

And now that the Evil One had become suspicious of their conversations, Ryo had taken to long periods of silence, and used words or ideas that were hidden in code, items left lying about, marks made on the wall, and messages were hidden in art, music or prose that was left sitting in sight around the apartment.

Any actual conversation between the two of them, was something that the Spirit looked forward to. However, the Evil One was about to turn them against each other, the Spirit could feel it. Sitting in his soul room inside the Ring, he could feel the dark presence pulsing, like a giant heart beat, pumping poison through its veins. Ryo seemed to sense it too, because he actually let him in one evening, into his soul room, as a reprieve. So different from the dark cave and tombs that filled the Spirit's room, Ryo's room looked like a meadow with rocks and a waterfall. However upon closer inspection, the Spirit could see that the grass was two different shades, and was one giant board game. The rocks and the waterfall were merely obstacles the various playing pieces had to walk around. Playing pieces that looked like anything from stuffed animal cats to various looking characters that looked straight out of a fantasy novel, to amorphous shapes that moved and distorted as they stood on their spots.

Ryo spoke suddenly out of nowhere, startling the Spirit. "Just as mental in here as it is out there, eh, Koumori?" Ryo had taken to calling the Spirit that in private, having discovered that the Spirit never even had a real name several thousand years ago. His mother called him little boy, and his father just called him 'you there'. And then he had stole half the kingdom's worth of bounty, everyone just called him the Thief King.

The Spirit didn't even get to reply, because in that moment, the Evil One entered the room. Ryo was shocked, the Evil one having never managed to get in before. But then the Spirit sighed, Ryo had never let him in before either. And wherever the Thief went, so could the Evil One. The Spirit recovered first, and took charge. He started yelling at Ryo as though he had come to torment him. Ryo took the mental barrage, cringing in all the right points, almost as if it was rehearsed. However, the Evil One didn't seem to be buying it. He took form behind Ryo, wading into the pond, turning it black and muddy. Stroking Ryo with one of his long smoke-like fingers, the Spirit watched as Ryo's well acted part, started to fall apart, for real. "You think you can just manipulate me, just the same as my father, well I am tired of putting up with it." Ryo's voice became tense and cold, and his eyes were closing just trying to maintain some level of composure.

The Evil One looked up and stared directly into the Spirit's eyes. What the Spirit saw there, was something he never wanted to see again, and he was seeing it seep into Ryo's eyes. He had to end this, and the only way out was to provoke a real reaction from Ryo. To sate the Evil One's twisted desire for pain.

The Spirit took a deep breath, _How is that any different from what you do? You aren't any less like your father then I am._

From Ryo's reaction, the Spirit had hit home. Deep, deep wounds. If Ryo hadn't been broken before that, he had broken at that moment. Ryo's eyes clouded over and his fists clenched. And then he took a swing at the Spirit. The Spirit ducked, but not fast enough, because the fist made contact and he hit the grass. The Evil One gave a merciless, cold laugh and disappeared.

Ryo however, wasn't finished. Even the Spirit was on the ground, Ryo proceeded to kick him sharply. And for once his life the Spirit didn't fight back. For once, he had felt remorse for his actions, justified as though they might have been. He had thrown many punches in his life, and that hadn't solved anything for him. But right now, he felt Ryo was quite justified in his attack. The Spirit closed his eyes trying to think of something to say, to seal over the wound he had opened.

Suddenly the kicking stopped and sobbing could be heard. The Spirit opened his eyes. Ryo was sobbing in a pile in the grass.

_I didn't mean it._

"Yes, you did. You meant every word." Ryo sobbed. "And I deserved it. Because it is true. Even more so then before." He took a deep breath. "I hate who I have become. I can't tell who I am, anymore then anyone else can. Lies and deceit have become as much a part of my nature, as my father's. He lied about what he was doing, who he was seeing, and I lie about what I am doing, and who I am working with. And now I am beating you up while you are already down."

_A disturbing role reversal to be sure. Usually I am the one making...marks. _The Spirit unconsciously rubbed his upper arm, thinking of the gash there from his pact with Marik.

The two of them spent the next few moments in silence, lying several feet from each other on the checkered grass. Ryo spoke up first. "Promise me, that if this all fails, that you will...destroy me. I refuse to take your place. I refuse to lose that particular game."

The Spirit contemplated this for a few moments. _Agreed. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Of course you have to promise that if this works, that you will live out the rest of your life as you ought to._

Ryo sighed. "Agreed." Thinking of what High Priest Seto had communicated to him when he had been in the Rod, he vocalized what he was thinking. " A dead man can't redeem himself as easily as one who is living."

_So very true._

"So you wouldn't even wish your kind of existence on anyone, not even on the Pharaoh?" Ryo asked curiously.

The Spirit paused. _Sometimes I wish I could go back, with all my memories, and do it all over again, differently of course._ That was as good as Ryo was going to get from him.

Ryo briefly smiled. "Well, you will soon get your chance."

The Spirit shook his head. _Not if we are playing by his rules. _And it was clear to both at that moment just how true that statement was.

Ryo Bakura lifted his head out of the sand. The board was in ruins, and the game was over. Finally.

The Ring was gone from around his neck, but Ryo knew where it was. Yugi could lie all he wanted, but he could feel it, sitting in Yugi's backpack. But he didn't try to reclaim it as he had done countless other times, this time Yugi had earned it. The Evil One had tried his absolute hardest to beat the Pharaoh, so this time, with no interference from Ryo and even reluctant assistance from the Thief, he had still lost, and that meant the Ring belonged to Yugi. None of its powers would work for him anymore. Ryo felt a hundred pounds lighter and a sense of clarity fell over him. He had finally been beaten at his own game. He hadn't been sure it would work, but Yugi had dueled wonderfully on his own, and the Pharaoh had pulled out a move at the end that Ryo hadn't anticipated. Perhaps the Pharaoh had something he wished he could change too and he had learned a thing or two from Yugi.

_Of course, I knew that this would work. It was your game._

Ryo visibly twitched, but no one noticed. Inside his head, he replied confused. "You are still here?"

_You aren't the only one who makes Plan B's. You and I seem to be stuck together. A side effect I didn't quite foresee when I bonded with you back when I...skewered your chest with the prongs of the Ring. _

Ryo frowned. "No offense, but I was hoping you would be gone."

_None taken. I had hoped to be gone as well._

The Spirit could feel Ryo's strength draining. "I think that this is perhaps more exhausting that when we used the Ring."

_I'm certain that two souls are not meant for one body. I will stay quiet for now. _

Ryo was thankful for this. In fact he didn't hear the Spirit speak for a long time after that. With all the craziness after the game board was cleaned up, and then the trip to Egypt for the Ceremonial Duel, Ryo almost forget he was still there. Everyone acted like he was gone, and so it was no difficulty to pretend such, when the Spirit kept quiet. It wasn't until the end of Yugi's duel with the Pharaoh that Ryo became conscious of the Spirit's presence again. As the doors opened to admit the Pharaoh, Ryo felt a twinge of jealousy that didn't belong to him. The Spirit said nothing, but it was clear he had been watching, and now was sulking. He sulked during the boat ride back, during the talk with Marik, and on the airplane. When they were alone in Ryo's apartment back in Japan, Ryo addressed him. "You could have the same thing, you know."

There was a scoff sound from the Thief. _I haven't really earned anything like that. _

Ryo smiled looking in the mirror for the first time in months, maybe even years, with a smile. "There is time for that."

However, this optimism was short-lived. A few weeks later, Ryo's father called and pulled him out of school in Domino. When Ryo refused to leave, his father merely texted him a video of him breaking into his father's museum with a lock pick and the words, I could have you arrested. Ryo clenched his fists and breathed deeply. He packed with speed and sorrow.

When Ryo arrived in Egypt, things didn't improve, in fact they got worse. The constant presence of his father, was grating, and his father saw it fit to use whatever new form of blackmail that he wanted to control even the simplest of Ryo's choices. However, Ryo's darkness seemed to be more then what his father produced. Even simple things, were stretching Ryo's patience more so then ever before.

When Ryo punched his father out at a bar, for attacking a prostitute, the Spirit rejoiced, but he also cringed. Despite Ryo's best intentions, and valiant efforts, with the removal of the life and death drama, and the constant fear of the Evil One gone, apathy was high and impulse control was low. And despite Ryo's best efforts, the tendency to be like his father, ran deeper then Ryo liked to admit. And the Spirit would rather die a thousand deaths, then live, knowing that dark seed, had taken root under his watch.

When Ryo smashed his cell phone, during a dinner with Marik and Yugi, the Spirit knew that what he feared was true, the Evil One still owned the Spirit. Now that the Spirit and Ryo were fused, the Evil One didn't need the control and power that he once had, just his constant presence would be all the fuel needed for Ryo to destroy his own life. For the first time in Millenniums, the Spirit didn't want to die, but now he knew he must. Because despite his best intentions and valiant efforts, he had finally learned to care for someone besides himself.

The Spirit knew what needed to be done. He was going to have to lose, in order for Ryo to win. Ryo was going to have to fight one last duel, this time against his greatest challenge, the one that existed inside himself.

See Chapters 9 and 10 of Trifecta, if you want to see the Duel between the two-three of them! Then see Chapter 23 to be introduced to Nisaa briefly before this next section.

Nisaa was motionless and silent, with wide eyes. Ryo wasn't sure whether she had understood any of what he had tried to explain;her face was unreadable. She blinked back into focus. Ryo waited nervously for her to say something. She looked between the Battle City DVD's that she had confronted him about, the book the Scarlet Pimpernel that he had requested that she read, and multiple letters and pictures that had been taken over the years of Ryo and the rest of the people, he was glad to call his friends.

Then she laughed. A deep, laugh that came in waves. When she stopped, seeing Ryo become even more nervous, she smiled and spoke. "All my life, I have wondered if I would ever find someone who saw past my beauty, and then my scars, and then didn't think my renegade past was too loose for them, and didn't fear when it occasionally came back to haunt me." She laugh briefly again. She handed the computer she had stolen back to Ryo. "Now I know, I've got it made. You aren't worried about my past, you are too busy worrying about yours. You wonder if someone will see past your pretty face, and your scars, physical and otherwise, and your money that comes from being a doctor."

Ryo briefly met her eyes. "You didn't leave because your wounds were healed and you had no need for me or my insurance, did you?"

Nisaa shook her head. "Nope, I was being blackmailed, into helping a past...friend is just the wrong word...with a bank job and I needed the computer. I barely escaped with this and my life. If it wasn't for that freak lighting at that playground, I'm sure that gang would have gutted me for deserting the job."

Ryo blinked. He surveyed the beautiful woman, with her long snake like scar down around her neck, covered in days worth of dirt and mud. "Which playground?"

Nisaa cocked her head in confusion. "A cute little playground, somehow sitting in the worse part of Luxor, without a mark on it. Why does that matter?" Ryo smiled, internally laughing at the irony. "Take a shower, make yourself at home. That story can come later."

Nisaa nodded. She surveyed the strange man who had legally married her almost 5 years ago, just so she could have his doctor's quality insurance. A man that was content to let her come to him, on her own terms, who expected nothing from her, and who was very patient, especially with his newly discovered Autistic half-sister. She thought about everything that she had learned about him in the past few days, and she almost had trouble picturing the darkness that he had described in his own mind. Almost. His eyes occasionally betrayed his broken past, or his tightly reined, justified, fury. And her mind jumped to the ancient spirit in the Ring, he had described. She wondered whether he realized, just how similar this character seemed to be, to her. No doubt, this was a source of embarrassment. She smiled mischievously.

"I am not going to make myself at home. I am home."

Ryo smiled broadly for the first time in a long time. A real smile, that continued long into the night and into the next morning.

See Chapter 26, for more about Ryo and Nisaa and his half-sister before reading the next chapter here. Or of course, you could just read all of Trifecta :)


	3. Chapter 3

Koumori

_This chapter opens right after the final duel between Ryo and the Evil One, from my story Trifecta. Once again, to eliminate confusion, I recommend reading that story first.  
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Once the blinding light of Diabound's attack faded, the Thief King, or Koumori, whichever, found his sight returning. A hawk flew in front of him, gesturing towards a small garden up ahead. Having nothing better to do, Koumori followed the bird of prey. Koumori was just shocked to see that it seemed he had skipped the supposed scales and the weighing of the heart.

The hawk flew into the garden and sat on a post.

The closer he got to the garden, the easier it was to see. A man was tending the garden, crouching down and digging in the dirt, an all too familiar man.

"Ra, no, I am not spending my afterlife with you, Pharaoh." The Thief angrily remarked.

The man stood up, his tri-colored hair, more obvious now. He turned to look at the thief, before shrugging, crossing his arms. "Apparently, you don't have to. Since you remember who I am, you aren't staying here. You are going back."

"What do you mean, go back? I just spent 3000 years trying to die, and now I have to go back?" Koumori was angry. Why did the Pharaoh get to stay, and he had to go back?

The Pharaoh shrugged, seeming distant. "You also spent 3000 plus years trying to find me and kill me."

There was a long, cold silence between the two former enemies. The hawk flew down from the post, and transformed into someone also all too familiar.

"Well, I have been around 5 times, if that makes you feel any better." Marik spoke, watching Koumori closely with his eyes.

"Marik" the Thief growled. He turned to the Pharaoh. "Marik's here too? Now I actually do want to leave!"

A slight smile, graced the Pharaoh's lips, but it soon faded.

Koumori turned back towards Marik. "And you got in here, after the last stunt you pulled, dragging people in and out of the shadow realm?"

Marik tightened his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nah, who said that my lives occurred in chronological order?"

The Pharaoh added to that. "Plus, this place is outside of time."

Marik smirked. "So yes, I am still on Earth, as far as you remember, alive and well, but for the purpose of this discussion, I am already dead."

Marik turned to the Pharaoh. "Let me know, when he is ready." And with that, he flew off into the blinding light that was over the hill and out of sight.

Another long silence set in, but this time some of the distance had been covered between them.

"What about you?" Koumori asked crossing his arms. "How many times did you go around, great Pharaoh?"

The Pharaoh crossed his arms as well. "Just once, one very long time."

Koumori clenched his fists. "And so who made you in charge around here! You have no right to tell me what I should and shouldn't do, Pharaoh. I despite you and your unfair gods!"

"Stop calling me, Pharaoh!"

There was a strange silence. Koumori had seen the Pharaoh angry at him many times, but this wasn't anger. Not justifiable, passionate anger. This was the lashing out of a wounded animal. Something he had done, all too frequently. But Koumori had only ever seen this from the pharaoh once before. When he had dragged his father's corpse out of his tomb, and stood on it before him and his court. Probably the most hurtful thing he could have done to him, in the RPG game, and in the past.

The man who didn't wish to be called Pharaoh, appeared to be breathing heavily, despite being dead and not needing air. "When people call me Pharaoh, they only are thinking two things, one, that they weak and I am strong, or that they think they are stronger then me, and covet my position. That's all I ever was before, a position, not a man."

Koumori blinked. "No,...you were considered a god."

The man turned his head away. "Well, they got that part wrong. I don't make the decisions around here, or else, I wouldn't be talking to you."

Another long silence lay over them like thick fog.

"Fine, what would you rather, be called?" Koumori asked to get him to start talking again. He hated silence.

"Atem, Yugi,...make something up if you really want, just not pharaoh."

Koumori sighed. "Well, I certainly won't call you Yugi. That name belongs to someone else, despite the initial confusion. Just as I wasn't really Bakura."

The man looked at Koumori. "What was your real name?"

"Never had one. 'You there' worked for me, and then Thief King, was even better. A young thief is told to earn his own name." He paused and slight smile graced his tanned, scarred face. " Ryo used to call me Koumori."

"He called you a Bat?"

Koumori smirked. "On the account of being metaphorically blind, and making a lot of screeching noises to make up for it." The tri-colored haired man, gave a real smile at this description.

Suddenly Koumori became solemn. "If I went back, would...he...still own me?"

The "he" didn't need to be explained. The man who was once Pharaoh, understood full well, the dark power of the Evil One. After all, he had lived with it too, pulsing through every piece of the puzzle.

"The demons of this world, only have a kingdom as great as what we offer them." The man replied solemnly.

Koumori frowned. "Is that a yes, or no?"

The man did not answer.

"Atem..." Koumori growled. "Don't you get high and mighty with me."

Atem smiled slightly at the use of his name. He met Koumori's eyes. "I didn't start this, you know. I was willing to hear your side of the story. You were the one who stooped to wound me, before you even knew me. Desecrating the one thing that meant the most to me."

Koumori unclenched his fists slightly and looked away. "A thief always overestimates his opponents, that is how he stays alive. Everyone is your enemy, when your very existence threatens them. You care about nothing, but yourself, and you are free."

Atem sighed. "You sound like Seto."

Koumori shrugged. "He and I shared a similar philosophy. I respected that about him."

Atem frowned. "You realize that he has already gone back. That you were able to see him in both of his lives."

Koumori smirked. "Yes, I suspected as much. Didn't really learn much, in your opinion, then did he? What with his rich, spoiled brat act, and his painful attempts to destroy you to gain back his reputation? And his cold, distant heart?"

Atem looked away. "He cared about Mokuba. That is an improvement."

Koumori scowled. "It was his weakness."

Atem gave a hmmm noise. "Like yours was Ryo Bakura. You sure protected him during Battle City, despite the loss of the game. You could have easily taken over someone new."

Koumori grit his teeth. "Ryo was smarter then the lot of you put together. He had everyone running around in circles, chasing their tails, while he was busy finding all the answers. He was the real game master, and you owe him your afterlife."

Atem seemed to contemplate this new information. So many things made sense now. The naive comments from Ryo, but his complex understanding of Duel Monsters. The elaborate strategies with rules, and with flaws. The way that the Thief protected him, keeping him out of the loop, yet always a step ahead of the game. Watching Atem's face, was like watching the sun rise. A smile turned into a grin, which turned into a chuckle and into a laugh. A laugh which brought him to tears.

Koumori growled. He couldn't see what was so funny. Plus, it was unnerving him to see the usually stoic or passionate man, laughing with tears in his eyes. "What?"

Atem stopped laughing and wiped the tears away. "Sorry..." He continued to smile and kept covering his mouth. "We are cut from the same cloth, really and truly. Both stubborn to a fault, with passionate hearts and tempers to match. I'm just sorry things couldn't have ended differently between the two of us."

"Don't apologize to me, as though that will make everything better. You can't undo what has already been done." Koumori snarled. How dare he act like his talk of brotherhood and their similarities as if that would make a difference!

Atem shrugged. "But you can put more weight on the other end of the scale. You **can** go back and do something new, something better. Balance things out."

Koumori considered this. "How do I know the gods won't screw me over again?"

Atem chuckled slightly. "Is that how Ryo saw all of his sufferings? As a gods curse, or his lot in life?"

Koumori paused, his rant stopped mid word. It was about the lesson for Ryo. He closed his mouth. "No."

There was a silence between them, but it now buzzed with energy and thoughts.

"I suppose, you have a plan, with regards to sending me back." Koumori muttered.

Atem nodded. "As Yugi's son."

"Ra, no, I refuse. Are you insane? Did you really think I would agree to that."

Atem sighed. "No, not really. But it would give you the benefit of seeing Ryo again."

"He wouldn't know that it was me, and I wouldn't remember him." Koumori remarked.

"All the better. Then you would be able to have a real connection." Atem remarked.

"If...if mind you, I agreed to this; would I be able to remember one thing?" Koumori asked.

Atem raised an eyebrow. This quick change of heart, was a surprise to say the least. However, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. So Atem smiled, and agreed. "What sort of thing?"

"None of your business."

Atem shrugged. "So you agree?"

Koumori sighed. "...yes."

And with that he disappeared in a ball of light.

_XXX_

Ryo was washing dishes, cleaning up after feeding Keitaro, Yugi's son, while Yugi was at his own father's bachelor party and Tea was in San Francisco, working on choreographing a brand new ballet. 12 year old Keitaro was playing video games and talking with Ryo's half-sister. The doorbell rang. Ryo frowned. He didn't think Yugi would be back til tomorrow. Ryo frowned even more when he opened the door. His father. Yugi may have made up with his father, but Ryo was certain that his father would always be a mystery, best left alone. His father didn't even greet him, but pushed the door opened and walked into his apartment. Ryo's Autistic half-sister, Hasina, cowered upon seeing him, and began rocking back and forth and screaming. Ryo attempted to remove his father from the apartment without a scuffle. He could smell the beer, and needed him removed before he actually did any real damage. His father only did any real damage when he had been drinking to forget.

The video game was abandoned, but the sound continued. The screaming continued, and Ryo could barely think, let alone, speak. However, the words that he had always wanted to say to his father, that he had rehearsed for many years, reached his ears. He was amazed to see them coming from the lips of Keitaro. His father seemed to stand still in shock. Keitaro took a deep breath, leaned over the bars of his wheelchair and picked up the cat that was hiding under the couch and sat it in the still screaming Hasina's lap. She started petting the cat, which slowly calmed her down, and the screaming stopped.

The silence was unsteady and tense. "Leave my apartment until you are ready to have a real conversation." Ryo managed, finding his voice. To his surprise, his father did just that, leaving the apartment, and half stumbling down the steps. Ryo closed the door and rubbed his forehead. He was going to ask Keitaro about the words that he had spoke, but Keitaro handed him a game controller when he sat down next to him.

"Play!" Keitaro commanded. "There is a time for words, and there is a time for invalids to totally kick your butt, at this game."

Ryo smiled weakly. And a moment of strange silence passed between them, one that had happened often between them, but Ryo had never quite been able to comprehend 'til now. Ryo accepted the controller with an awkward, but contented smile.

And Ryo spent the next two hours, creaming Keitaro at his favorite game; finally re-learning to enjoy games.


	4. Chapter 4

_And one more garden scene, just for my sister, who wanted to know what happened the second time around. This is it guys! Thanks for reading!_

Koumori

A young man, of about 30, looked around. Around him was a garden. Small, but full of the most interesting and unique plants he had ever seen. Tending to the garden was a man, whom he was certain he should know, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Ah! I knew you would be coming. I am glad to see you." The man in the garden spoke to him, without even looking up to see who was there.

"Who are you?" the young man asked.

The gardener smiled. "Oh, good, you have forgotten me, I am pleased. It will come back to you eventually, but for now I think it best that you have forgotten. I would like tell you something that I think is best, with an open mind and heart."

The young man smiled. he loved puzzles and riddles, and this man was full of them. "What sort of thing?"

The gardener stopped watering the plants and looked at him for the first time. "I have a short story to tell you."

The young man nodded that should continue.

"Once upon a time, there were two brothers, but they didn't treat each other as such, because they didn't know they were brothers. Or rather they didn't understand the meaning of the word brother. Because of this, one of them died and the other was filled with grief. He had discovered that the very person he sought to destroy was his own family, and now it was too late. He couldn't save his life, but he could save his soul. He roamed the earth, and the heavens to play the ultimate game of redemption, but he still hadn't learned. He sought to do whatever necessary to rescue his brother, even if that meant that others would have to lose much along the way. Like his father, who like his son, didn't understand the meaning of the word brother either, he saw people who were not like him and his family, as others, as separate, as lesser. It was for this reason that he could not stay in the afterlife, upon his death, because he still sought to save one soul at the cost of thousands, because he had not yet learned the meaning of the word brother."

The gardener paused, and sighed hard, as though he breathed hard from pain, or a deep wound. But he smiled and continued. "His dedication, served his biological brother, whom he had sought to rescue well, but at a great cost, one his brother was not willing to pay, when he learned of his brother's mission. So even though he feared he would be cast out of the afterlife as well for interfering, the second brother, sought to insure that anyone, or at least as many people as possible that had been hurt by his brother's interference, could be rescued as well. When confronted however, he was told that he had done the right thing, he had understood who his brothers were, and for that he would be given a chance to insure that the first brother could learn the same as well."

The gardener paused, this time to see if the story had sank in. The young man was looking at the garden, deep in thought. "You do what must be done, to save the greatest amount of people."

The gardener nodded. "Holding people together, is much more difficult then breaking them apart."

The young man sighed. "I know that all too well." He posed a question that seemed to be bothering him. "Why are there weeds in your garden?"

The gardener smiled. "Who am I to decide what is weeds and what is harvest?"

The young man, cocked his head, comprehension dawning. "You are the other Yugi. The Pharaoh." He hesitated to use his true name. "You are...A..Atem."

The gardener smiled kindly. "And you Keitaro, are my brother."

The young man smiled, but corrected Atem. "I prefer Koumori, if you don't mind," shifting his appearance.

Atem smiled even broader. He gazed at the now tall, dark skinned, black haired young man." You are starting to recall all of your pasts. Good, good."

Koumori's cheeks seemed to redden in shame. "I preferred the blank slate."

Atem shook his head. "Nonsense, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You needn't worry about Yugi's reaction."

Koumori shook his head this time. "I am not worried about Yugi's response. I lived as his son for 29 years, I have seen his best and as Koumori, I have seen his worse. Yugi is not the brother in the story that did not understand the meaning of the word brother."

Atem's smile disappeared, but he nodded. "Indeed, he is not. Yugi sees the best in most people, and he treats almost everyone as his brothers." Atem raised his eyebrow. "Then why the shame?"

Koumori didn't meet Atem's eyes. "After all I have done, I didn't deserve such a...gift...two in a row to be exact." With his time as Yugi's handicapped son, he couldn't help but find himself a little more grateful for the things that he had been given.

Atem gave a hmm sound. "You deserved both of them. You definitely got the...raw end of the deal, many times. To be fair, I knew that Yugi would teach you love, compassion,and family, things you had never known before. Of course I also knew that your stubbornness, your passion and your...strength in the face of adversity, would teach him as well. That is why I recommended that you go back as his son. It was your turn to be Seba. And a fine teacher, you made. It also really says a lot for nurture versus nature." He gave a pensive half smile, thinking of a conversation he had had with Yugi about evolution.

A hawk flew overhead and landed in the garden. It shaped shifted into a form that Koumori was familiar with. "Marik Ishtar." Koumori stated plainly without surprise.

"Thief King." Marik nodded, seeing only the man that he had known. He smiled broadly. "Staying this time, I see. Good."

Atem responded. "He is waiting for someone."

Marik smiled knowingly. "Well, here he comes." He gestured to an old man coming over the horizon.

The old man entered the garden. "Who are you? Should I have remembered you? I feel like I should know you." He seemed at peace despite his confusion.

"Ah, good, you are staying. Come into the garden and stay awhile. It will come back to you shortly." Atem spoke with calm patience.

The old man looked around. "There are so many kinds of plants here. It must have taken a lot of work to get this to look this nice."

Atem nodded. Koumori shifted nervously. His appearance shifted to be that of Keitaro before the old man could turn his attention to him.

"I'm sure it was worth it. Hard work, usually pays off." The old man remarked calmly and Koumori stopped fidgeting. He may not remember anything, Koumori thought, but he sure sounded like the man he knew.

The old man turned his attention to Keitaro. "Did you help with this garden too?" Keitaro shook his head no. "I just got here."

The old man seemed satisfied with this answer. Something seemed to be coming back to him and he remarked. "There's time for that."

Koumori broadly smiled and shifted his appearance at the use of a familiar phrase.

Understanding awoke in the old man's eyes. He shifted appearance as well, looking the age, not of a young teen or even a young man, as he had been when Koumori had last seen him, but of a man in his thirties, with shortened hair, and the confident air of a well practiced surgeon. "I knew it was you."

Koumori blinked in confusion. "How?"

Ryo Bakura smiled. "Seto Kaiba was once thrown off, by the fact that he could read Ancient Egyptian texts, though he had never seen any before. Keitaro, too, could read a language he had never seen before, one that I created. He also knew the one thing, to say to my father, like he knew what button to push." Ryo smiled. "I never told anyone that phrase, only you would have known what words to use."

Koumori shrugged. "Except I didn't actually remember why that phrase would have worked, I just felt like I should say it. I'm glad that the two of you, made peace."

Ryo sighed deeply. "In ways, that I could not possibly have fathomed."

Marik interrupted. "I see it's all coming back now."

Koumori raised an eyebrow. "You have more then one past too?"

Ryo nodded. "As a child, I hated the way my father treated me, but as I got older, what I hated more was the fact, that when I looked into his eyes, I saw my own reflection, looking back at me. Not like mirror, but more like a window. I was afraid that this meant that I was going to be just like him, something I would have payed all the money in his bank accounts and my own, to prevent. But I needn't have worried so much, because I had already been there and done that, and learned from it."

Atem spoke up, before Koumori could respond. "It was a wise request."

Ryo gave a half smile. "It saved some of my blows, physical and emotional, for myself." Seeing Koumori's continued confusion, Ryo explained. "My previous life, was a bit closer to home then I might have guessed would be possible. In helping me, connect with my father, you helped me connect with myself. And when I learned to throw aside my hatred of my father, he learned to do the same. He learned to stop hating himself. Everything that I did to help my father become a better man was helping me become the man that had chosen to go back and become my own victim."

Koumori gave a awkward laugh. "Your past life was your own father! And you choose to come back to be his son. How masochistic of you."

Ryo gave a small laugh. "You already knew that about me, considering I agreed to help you."

Koumori nodded. "But, how is that sort of thing even possible?"

Marik shuffled his feet. "Time as a linear construct, is a...human perception."

Atem nodded. "For example, did I instruct Shadi's...Khabit, is what we will call it, for simplicity's sake; did I instruct him to give Ryo the Ring, because I already knew I had done it and therefore my action was merely tracing the circle already draw in the sand, or did my action cause the event that created my option?"

Marik smiled. "Can God create a boulder that he can't move?"

Atem laughed. "That riddle used to drive Yugi crazy. He hated riddles with no answer."

Ryo blinked. "Wait, you mean, Shadi, was following your instructions all along?" Ryo began to laugh heartily, but with a tension that bordered on the edge of sanity.

Atem smiled and laughed as well. "Did he know about the Egyptian God Cards because I told him? And if so then how did I know, because I found out from him?"

Koumori raised an eyebrow. "Who is to say that everything doesn't happen simultaneously. That everyone is, at any given moment, their greatest strengths and their greatest weakness."

Atem bowed. "I know what duty would best suit you, Koumori. A bat is not as blind as people think they are, and neither are you. You are not the man who doesn't understand the meaning of the word brother, either."

Koumori gave a bow back. "It has only taken me several thousand years, but I have learned much, from the best teachers."

Atem looked him solidly in the eye. "You were also my teacher. Trying to understand you, made me analyze myself, in a way I wouldn't have been able to before. You and I both know that the real past, as opposed to the RPG recreation, and it did not play out so...favorably, for me or you."

Koumori nodded. "You made many bad decisions, merely lacking...forethought. When I discovered what you had done, your sacrifice, to save your brother and your kingdom, it was in that moment, that I knew I couldn't continue to blindly hate you. I would have done the same, had I been able to save what I had lost. If only I could have seen, back then, that I hadn't ever really lost anything. Because I hadn't really cared about anything."

Atem smiled warmly. "But you learned to care..." And there was a moment of silent understanding between the two.

Marik looked to Atem. "I think I know which duty you are thinking of. Should I take him now?"

Atem nodded. "I'm sure that my suggestion will be accepted."

Koumori asked curiously, "What shall I be doing?"

Atem smiled." I'm sure you have heard the phrase, Whoever you turn away, shall be turned away, and who ever you let enter, shall enter."

In Koumori's heart, he could see the scales of Maat that once bothered him so as a child, for fear of being bad, and being devoured, a fate which he expected and welcomed with open arms as a Spirit. Luckily enough, that had not been the case.

Koumori smiled. Who better then the shadow to weigh the amount of light? "The scales balance when something is on both ends. For that reason I would like to take Ryo with me. After all, he was my Change of Heart."

Ryo smiled sheepishly. "And you were mine."

Marik laughed. "We all are fusion monsters aren't we?"

There was laughing among those present in the garden. Ryo laughed. "This is where Tea usually made a speech about unity and friendship." The were some additional chuckles at this.

Atem nodded. "Go now then, we will meet again."

Ryo nodded. "Are you going to stay here?"

Atem nodded. "I am waiting for my other half. Mou hitori no Boku. And for all my brothers."

The wind stirred in the garden and the three of them were gone. Atem sighed. But he knew he wouldn't have to wait long.


End file.
